


Regrets

by FatalGrace



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalGrace/pseuds/FatalGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on Tumblr: Hannibal visits Will in BSHCI, and during their conversation, Hannibal reflects on all the things he misses now that Will is incarcerated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queencakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queencakes/gifts).



As Hannibal entered the therapy room, he was struck by how very sterile his environment was. There were no comfortable couches, no mahogany bookshelves. Just gray walls, hard plastic chairs, and cages for the inmates. A flicker of disgust passed across his face at the thought. Those cages were an abomination. He draped his coat over the back of the chair before settling into it, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers around one knee.

“Hello, Will.”

Will inclined his head in Hannibal’s direction. “Doctor Lecter.”

“How are you today, Will?” A slight smile appeared on Hannibal’s face as he observed Will’s subtle signs of irritation. Thinned lips, a cheek muscle that jumped as he gritted his teeth, a slight flare to his nostrils.

“I’m doin’ just peachy, Doctor. Nothing more restful than staring at the bars of a cage all day. I’m sure it’s doin’ wonders for my mental health.” Hannibal noted with some amusement that a hint of Will’s Louisiana accent had slipped back into his speech. He had never noticed the accent during their previous conversations, but perhaps now that Will no longer had to perform for the FBI, he’d allow more of his true self to surface.

Hannibal’s instinct was to reach out to Will, to offer the illusion of comfort, but he reminded himself that he couldn’t.  He’d underestimated how trying the lack of physical contact would be. He wondered which he hated more—the fact that he could no longer touch Will, or the fact that Chilton was recording everything that he and Will said. Being recorded certainly put a damper on what Hannibal was willing to say. On the off chance that a particularly clever agent ever felt the need to listen to Chilton’s recordings, Hannibal felt it best that he remain—unimpeachable.

“How is your therapy going, Will? I hear Doctor Chilton is attending to your mental well-being personally.”

Will twisted his face into a semblance of a smile. “Mental well-being. Chilton hasn’t made things worse, so I guess that counts for somethin’. He certainly lacks your…subtlety, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal allowed the barest of smiles onto his own face. “Few have the patience to develop the subtlety required in my line of work. I wouldn’t fault Doctor Chilton for that, Will.” Hannibal could almost hear Chilton grinding his teeth at the perceived slight to his therapeutic technique. The thought sent a delicious shiver down Hannibal’s spine. He would have to have Chilton for dinner sometime. But not yet. The man was still useful. Will stood motionless, his hands balled into fists and his upper lip curled in disgust. “Oh don’t worry. I don’t hold that against Chilton at all. What I do hold against him is his complete ineptitude when it comes to actual therapy. If I didn’t know my own mind, I would probably already be convinced that I killed those girls. Chilton is so bent on getting me to remember, he’s done just about everything but drug me and scramble my brains.” Will leaned towards Hannibal and lowered his voice. “But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Doctor Lecter?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t, Will. Psychic driving is unethical, and in some cases, it can have unintended consequences.” Hannibal flicked his eyes downwards as he frowned. He truly regretted Will’s incarceration. It wouldn’t hurt to allow Will to see some of that regret. Perhaps it would help convince him that Hannibal truly had his best interests at heart.

“What’s the matter, Doctor? Are you missing your favorite plaything? I’m not as much fun now that I’m in here, am I?”

Hannibal kept a serene expression on his face, but internally, he was seething. Will was right, of course. Manipulating Will when he was free had so many possibilities, but now that he was kept in a cage like some sort of animal, Hannibal’s games didn’t bring him quite the same enjoyment.

Hannibal’s ears caught a faint noise. “Hungry, Will?” Will’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as he hunched his shoulders and looked away. “I don’t eat much.” He laughed, a short bark that was more anger than humor. “I’m afraid you spoiled me with your cooking. That, and the cocktail of drugs that Chilton has me on don’t lend themselves well to keeping food down.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I believe I will have a word with Frederick about your medication. Perhaps I can provide some insight into a combination that will allow you to eat comfortably.” If Hannibal hadn’t been watching carefully, he might have missed the look of relief in Will’s eyes. He really would have to have a word with Chilton. Will looked like he had lost weight, and as slender as he was, he couldn’t afford to lose too much more and still remain healthy. Of all the things Hannibal missed, feeding Will was probably what he missed most. Will was always so appreciative. He ate like someone who had never had quite enough to eat growing up, and although his palate was woefully unrefined, he seemed to appreciate the amount of work that went into every one of Hannibal’s dishes. Hannibal smirked. Will truly had no idea how much work it actually was…After all, butchering the meat was quite a time-consuming task. Yes, Feeding Will was definitely what he missed most. “After your medication has been properly regulated, I will cook for you. I’m sure Frederick would not deny me the privilege of sharing my work.” Immediately, Hannibal knew it was the wrong thing to say. He watched as Will tensed and practically snarled his words. “Why, so it can remind me of everything I’ve lost? Go to hell.”  
Hannibal inclined his head. “My apologies, Will. I had hoped to bring you comfort, not cause you more distress. Please, forget I mentioned it.”

Will shut his eyes, tilting his head back as he inhaled sharply. He held his breath for a moment before letting out a shuddering sigh. “No, I apologize. You were trying to help, I understand that.” Hannibal felt a surge of victory. He knew Will would come back to him eventually. He just needed to be patient. He was too busy reveling in his victory to notice that Will had opened his eyes, and was watching him with a calculating look. “Doctor Lecter, could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course, Will. Whatever I can do.” Will smiled—a small upturning of his lips that would have looked far more at home on Hannibal’s face than on his. “Could you come a little closer? I’d rather Dr. Chilton not hear.” Obligingly, Hannibal stood and stepped within an arm’s length of Will’s cage.

“What is it, Will? How can I help you?”

“You can stop trying to manipulate me. We will never be friends again; you made sure of that when you framed me. I told you once—I don’t find you that interesting. Would you like to know why? I see you. I see everything you are, and you are boring. Your person suit is particularly well tailored, but it’s just a suit. Take that away, and you’re nothing. I prefer my friends to have substance.”

Hannibal drew back, his nostrils flaring in anger. He’d changed his mind about what he missed most. He missed Will being polite and biddable. This Will—this Will was every bit the animal this cage turned him into.  
“What’s the matter, Doctor Lecter? Do you not like your toys anymore after they’re broken?”

Hannibal gathered his thoughts. Will was clearly heavily medicated. He could be allowed some leeway. “Jack was right, Will. Fear makes you rude. I understand that this situation is not ideal, but I will do whatever I can to make your stay here as painless as possible. Perhaps we can continue this conversation once your medication has been properly controlled.”

Will slumped onto the seat, scrubbing at his face with both hands. “Yeah. Perhaps. Speaking of medication, I think I hear the orderly coming. That’s your cue to leave, Doctor Lecter.”

Will was right. The orderly was walking towards them, restraints in hand and an apologetic expression on his face. Hannibal felt he should look sorry for interrupting their conversation. As he pulled his coat on, he heard the orderly talking to Will.

“Sorry about these, Mr. Graham.”  
“It’s all right, Matthew. You’re just doing your job.”

Hannibal ground his teeth. Clearly, Will could be polite when he wanted to be. Why then, did he feel it necessary to be so rude during their conversation? He mentally shuffled through recipes, deciding which meal the orderly would be best in. He pictured the look on Will’s face as he took the first bite—

 Suddenly, he lost interest in cooking the orderly.

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt: 
> 
> I’ve read a lot of Hannigram fics where Will visits Hannibal after his incarceration but I’d like to read some where Hannibal visits Will. 
> 
> I’d like him to contemplate the pros and cons of having Will locked up in a cage, including the little personal consequences. i.e. No more touching. No more feeding him people. No more 100% private conversations. 
> 
> And because these conversations are not 100% private, Hannibal cannot say anything incriminating about himself. So he either responds to Will cryptically, humorously or plays the patronising, sympathetic psychiatrist.
> 
> I’d like Will to be bitter, obviously.


End file.
